


Conversing

by dawnperhaps



Series: Logic of Hershey Kisses [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnperhaps/pseuds/dawnperhaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows he’s supposed to love all of his father’s creations.  But Gabriel is a dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversing

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m starting this little universe where Dean and Sam are angels and Cas and Gabe are hunters, which I know is cliche, but I can’t help myself. It’s not going to have chapters, per se, because I don’t think I’m going to write it in order or anything. But I might write little ficlets within this verse. Maybe it’ll turn out to be a chaptered fic? We’ll see.

Sam is frustrated to say the least.  Frustration is not something Sam is familiar with, at least when it comes to things that don’t concern Dean, and he doesn’t think he likes it.  This wasn’t supposed to be this difficult.  When he and his brother first embarked on their journey, Dean had been the one complaining and calling humans dull and idiotic while Sam had been enthusiastic about putting all his research to the test.  Now it appears the tables are turned.  Dean is practically doing cartwheels and chattering endlessly about how delightfully strange his eager little charge is.  Sam, on the other hand, is nursing a slightly charred wing after _his_ charge left him trapped in a ring of holy fire.  Where the hunter even found holy oil is beyond him.

Sam knows he’s supposed to love all of his father’s creations.  But Gabriel is a dick.

“Are you sure you explained it right?  Maybe he’s just stupid,” Dean offers, leaning against the back on the park bench they’re currently camping out on, unseen to the families around them.

Sam fixes his brother with a glare, his wings rustling in irritation.  “No, I’m pretty sure he got it.  He thought I was on drugs.”

“Were you?”

“Dean!”

“What?  I wouldn’t blame you.  It’s not every day we get stationed on Earth.”

Sam lets out an exasperated sigh, flipping halfheartedly through his book on human history.  Although he spends plenty of time in the libraries of Heaven, this book belongs to him, a cherished gift offered to him by an older angel, Bobby, when he was just a fledgling.  It contains stories of warriors, generals, and heroes, all eager and excited to act nobly and do their part to change the world.  Sam had clung to these stories in his earlier years, asking Bobby to repeat them until he learned to read them for himself.  He remembers talking endlessly to Dean about them until his older brother had pushed him away and told him to bother someone else.  When Sam learned he was to deliver the call to adventure to his very own charge, he’d been honored, of course, but also secretly thrilled to be a part of a brand new chapter in history, another section of his book.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that the hunter might be so reluctant.  After all, Gabriel is a hunter; he saves people for a living.  Why wouldn’t he want to save the world?

“Cas is on board,” Dean mentions.  “Nothing says we need both of them.”

“Gabriel’s my charge and I have orders to enlist his help,” Sam says automatically, more focused on the text in front of him, hoping to find something helpful about the idiosyncrasies of human behavior.

“No one cares if we do this by the book,” Dean tells him, lazily stretching his honey colored wings out behind him.  He rests his chin on his hands and stares in boredom at the human children playing nonsensical games.  “As long as we stop Michael and Lucifer from saying yes.”

“Everyone cares if we do this by the book,” Sam corrects.  “That’s why there is a book.”

“I don’t see anyone around here enforcing the ideals of the book,” Dean says, gesturing vaguely to the angel-less area around them.  However, they both know that just because you can’t see the seraphic police doesn’t mean they aren’t listening.  In fact, that normally means they’re listening harder.

“Could you please do me a favor,” Sam begs, closing his book and trying to plead with Dean with his eyes.  “And just stay on the reservation for this one thing?”

Sam watches the rebellion flicker across his brother’s eyes and it terrifies him.

“I’m delivering the message, aren’t I?” Dean finally grumbles.

“I mean it, Dean,” Sam says insistently.  “Gordon has been looking to have our wings torn off for a while now.  And Heaven is at stake.  Your pride is a dangerous thing.”

“Thank you, Good Son, I also attend the annual brainwashing session.”

“Dean.  Please.”

“Sam, I wouldn’t leave you on this mission alone,” Dean promises.  He cracks a grin and adds, “If you can’t handle your human, there’s no way you could communicate with mine.”

“I think you like him,” Sam teases, even though Dean’s growing attachment does concern him.  Dean visits Castiel far more often than necessary and someone higher up is bound to notice.  Sam doubts Castiel needs so much instruction.

“I don’t _like_ him.  That would be irresponsible.  If I liked either of them, it would be yours.  Yours is spunky and interesting.  Mine is… awkward,” Dean tells him, but he’s smiling too much to mean his words.  He snickers.  “They should have given _you_ Castiel.  Maybe you could relate.”

“I still think you like him.  You haven’t shut up about him since you first appeared to him,” Sam points out.  He frowns, staring at a picture of King David longingly.  “At least he believes in angels.”

“Which, if you knew anything about humans, you would know is weird,” Dean concludes.  “He’s weird.”

Sam grins to himself.  “You’re weird.”

“Your face is weird.”

“This is a vessel,” Sam replies.

“You’re supposed to say ‘Your mom is weird,’ you dumbass,” Dean says, rolling his own vessel’s eyes.  “This is why you can’t relate to humans.”

Sam frowns because that definitely wasn’t in his book.  Sam wonders, as Dean disappears beside him, if he needs to update his reading material.

—

Gabriel glances at Castiel, hoping to see his little brother a bit more relaxed or at least not scowling.  He knows Castiel is mad and he even understands why.  Well, he understands a little, anyway.  In any case, the younger hunter hasn’t even looked at him since they first booked their room, busying himself with polishing his new and admittedly gorgeous mechanical crossbow, running a cloth lovingly over its neck.  Gabriel hadn’t seen it until Castiel pulled it out of his bag and he had a brief moment of panic when he thought Castiel might threaten to use it on him.  But Castiel just fell into a chair and proceeded to ignore Gabriel’s existence, and now that Gabriel has gone through his entire bag of Hershey kisses trying to ignore the awkwardness, he is itching to break the silence.  He can only run pointless Internet searches for so long.

“New toy from Balthazar?” he finally decides to say.  Castiel obviously loves the thing, so he figures it will be a safe topic.  Gabriel prefers to take out monsters the old fashion way - with a little cunning and some old school charms - but Castiel likes fire power, and a lot of it.  Gabriel carries a gun and a few knives, of course, and Castiel is always trying to get him to carry something more heavy duty, but holy relics and fire have saved their asses enough times that Gabriel trusts his method.

Castiel glances up at him at the question, scowling deeper and not responding.

Gabriel winces.  “You still mad at me?”

“You trapped an angel in _fire_ , Gabriel,” Castiel snaps, his polishing becoming a bit more violent.

“We don’t know they’re angels, Cas.”

“They have wings!” Castiel exclaims.  “And the first time they tried to speak to us, our tail lights exploded!”

“Yeah.  Rude,” Gabriel scoffs, turning back to his keyboard and opening a page on their latest monster.  Balthazar wants them to drive to Wisconsin in the morning to check up on an old friend who may or may not have an imp infestation.  It sounds boring to Gabriel, but Castiel owes Balthazar – for more than just the random weapon upgrade – and Gabriel definitely isn’t letting him go alone.  Imps are tricky little things anyway, which is Gabriel’s department.  Castiel would probably just burn the walls down with his favorite flamethrower.

Although burning some imps could definitely take his mind off these stupid angels.

“You wouldn’t have been able to trap him in a ring of holy fire if he weren’t an angel,” Castiel points out.

“Oh, yeah, because everything else can hop through fire, no problem,” Gabriel says, although he did take the extra effort to have the oil blessed.  As a precaution, of course, and nothing more.

“Gabriel,” Castiel says, firmly, like he’s the older brother and Gabriel is the irrational one.  “I don’t think this has anything to do with whether or not they are angels.”

Gabriel just snorts, bringing the computer closer to his face.

“I know that it is difficult for you to think about Michael and Lucifer,” Castiel says cautiously.  He sets the crossbow on the table beside him and leans over in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Hey, Cas,” Gabriel says, too cheerfully, his smile forced.  “Shut up.”

“We have bigger issues than your… emotional baggage about our brothers,” Castiel insists, eyes desperate.  “Gabriel, Heaven is at war.”

“I’m so concerned.  Really,” Gabriel says flatly, avoiding the reference to Michael and Lucifer.

“You should be!”

“And why’s that?”

“Because our brothers could be the deciding factor in this battle,” Castiel exclaims.  “Would it really be so difficult to convince them to stop fighting?  If we told them what Dean said-”

“You were one and a half when they took off and ruined everyone’s lives.  I was eight.  I remember everything they said to each other.  So trust me when I say, yes, it would be that hard,” Gabriel snaps, his gaze burning a hole into the webpage he’s no longer reading.

“Dean told me that Heaven’s survival depends on us,” Castiel says, almost sadly, and Gabriel looks up into his distressed eyes and feels the fire in his stomach burn out, a familiar ache taking its place.  It’s the same look Castiel had all those years ago when Gabriel went across the country for college, wanting to get as far away from his broken family as possible.  His kid brother is and always has been awkward when it comes to talking about his feelings and asking for things, but Gabriel has gotten pretty good at reading his face.  And just like he couldn’t communicate his wishes at ten years old – _“Please don’t leave me here with dad.”_ – he can’t do it now.  But his eyes scream, _“We could save Heaven,”_ and, even louder, _“We could fix our family.”_

“Whatever is going on,” Gabriel sighs.  “It’s Heaven’s problem.  If angels or God or whatever rip Heaven apart, well.  I doubt we had first class tickets there anyway.”

Castiel unzips his bag and pulls a flask out, and Gabriel feels a whole new level of guilt.  After a brief argument with his own instinct for emotional self-preservation, he sighs.

“If the ‘angels’ come back,” he says, putting finger quotes around the celestial (and possibly fictional) term.  “I promise not to trap them in a fire circle.”  When Castiel glances up at him hopefully, he takes a deep breath and says, “And maybe I’ll listen.  _Maybe_.”

Castiel’s expression is so full of gratitude that Gabriel has to look away, trying not to regret his promise.  Memories of Michael and Lucifer – their verbal spars, their physical fights, their shouting, and, cruelly, their hugs and smiles – flash through his mind and he winces, knowing he already does.

Gabriel busies himself with more needless research, trying not to flashback to his childhood, when a Snickers bar lands on his keyboard.  He looks up to find Castiel smiling awkwardly.

“Dick,” Gabriel mutters, failing to suppress a smile as he rips the wrapper open.

“Ass,” Castiel returns, but it sounds more like ‘thank you’ to Gabriel’s ears and, the older hunter has to admit, he feels a little more committed to his promise.


End file.
